


The Key To A Good Time

by Apriel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom Steve Rogers, Crack, Halloween Challenge, Humiliation, Kinktober, M/M, Macro/Micro, Masturbation, Object Insertion, Prostate Milking, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 15:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apriel/pseuds/Apriel
Summary: When Steve takes Sam's advice too literally it appears only Scott can help him out~





	The Key To A Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> scott literally shrinks down & goes inside steve so pls run now if u think it'll make u cry ffsfgghgf ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

 "Sam, you're coming with me to this party, right?"

 

"I dunno', man, sounds like a lotta' effort to get dressed up an—"

 

" _Please_ , Sam," Steve implores. The exhaustion and displeasure at the thought of socialising at Stark tower is evident in his tired face.

 

Sam sighs and rubs the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders as he deliberates, but inevitably...

 

"Alright, alright, stop lookin' at me with those big ol' baby blues already," he yields.

 

"Thanks, Sam!" Steve beams, oozing gratitude.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Sam smirks, ruffling Steve's hair affectionately. "I'll go suit up."

 

"Should I put the address in the Satnav?" Steve excitedly offers once they're in the car.

 

"Go for it, big guy," Sam lovingly condones. He knows the way there just fine, but he also knows how Steve gets at any opportunity to make use of modern tech, and it's too cute to deny him.

 

"God damn Tony, it's enough asking us to drive outta' our way to come to this shindig but on top'a that we gotta' wear our whole uniforms, too?" Sam huffs, exasperated as he adjusts his grip on the wheel.

 

"Well, it is Halloween, guess it saves us _buying_ costumes... though, I don't even have pockets anymore," Steve bemoans.

 

"Hah! Upgraded your suit but forgot to add anything actually useful to it, huh?" Sam teases.

 

"Talk about spiteful," the super soldier grumbles, "where am I supposed to put my key?"

 

Sam laughs, preempting the suggestion: "Put it up yer ass. Isn't that where you World War Two fellas hid all yer valuables back in the day?"

 

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, but the thought actually plants a seed.

 

"Anyway, why am _I_ behind the wheel? Technically you should be designated driver since you don't drink."

 

"I'll drive us home, pal, you're doin' me enough of a solid by coming along," Steve assures.

 

"You'll drive us home, huh? With what license, big man?" Sam reminds him, smiling fondly at Steve's obliviousness to the joke.

 

"Ah— oh... right," Steve stumbles. He draws a guilty breath in through his teeth then. "Sorry, guess you'll have to stay sober and watch out for this old man all night."

 

Sam shakes his head, but he's still smiling.

 

"I always do, you know I always do," he tuts, making Steve blush a little at the graciousness of his tone.

 

The pair of them share a disapproving look that turns into a grin when they roll up and see the usual mix of cars; big, expensive sports versions with custom paint jobs, and then for every wealthy-looking vehicle there's a goddamn silver Prius.

 

"Sam, hey!" Steve cries in alarm as he's jostled by the suspension when Sam decides to go off-road.

 

"Don't get yer panties knotted, Cap. I'm sure Tony can afford to have his precious lawn preened after letting a couple'a good ol' friends find an easy parking spot."

 

Steve looks a little guilty but still nods his head, a gesture indicative of: 'Yeah, guess you're right.'

 

"Well," the super soldier agrees, "as long as we don't turf it u—"

 

He's promptly drowned out by the sound of Sam jamming on the parking break and revving the engine, causing the wheels to spin in place and churn up the pristine grass beneath them.

 

" _Oops_ ," the ex-operative shrugs with an unapologetic smirk. "Guess it rained a little last night— wheels got stuck," he lies.

 

Steve tries to throw him a despairing look, but he's finding it very difficult not to laugh. Sam is lucky to have such a huge amount of charm and charisma, it's really the only thing protecting him from being a borderline menace. Steve adores him for it.

 

"Hey, I'm gunna' make a quick rest stop," the super soldier quietly informs as they enter the bustling penthouse suite.

 

"Okay man, I got you," Sam nods, understanding his role as someone to break the ice for Steve and integrate the nervous Captain America once he's got a good chatty vibe going.

 

"Ladies," the suave aviator greets, choosing a rather predictable flock of socialites for his tastes, much to what will likely be Steve's discomfort.

 

"Can I get any of you a drink? Can I get _all_ of you a drink?" he asks, prompting the group of girls to close ranks and flutter around him at the bar with flirtatious laughter.

 

"Did you come here alone?" one of them asks.

 

"You don't have a date?" another pouts with false disappointment.

 

"Oh, _I do_ ," Sam enunciates, holding up five fingers to the bartender as he glances his way, "my date tonight's a little on the mature side."

 

"Hn, how old is she?"

 

"Is it your wife?" the girls interrogate with glee.

 

"Hey, there he is!" Sam cheers, inviting Steve into the group he has gracefully centred himself in. "You took your time pal, must have been a big one," Sam remarks, causing Steve to cringe at the implication but laugh it off and try to get the bartender's attention.

 

"Aren't you Captain America?!"

 

"What? Ah— yeah, I am," Steve replies, tripping over his words right off the bat.

 

"Play it cool baby, play it cool," Sam mouths to him, trying to calm his nerves.

 

"Captain America is your _date_?"

 

The questions just keep coming from all sides.

 

"Hey, I told you he was on the mature side," Sam deflects, earning a chorus of laughter.

 

Steve laughs too, but he's really not feeling it. Sam is an awesome wingman, but he totally misread the meaning of his disappearance to the bathroom.

 

Sam senses this though, and leads their laughter with his own into a downslope of smiles as he turns around on the barstool to face his harem.

 

"Go on girls, enjoy yourselves, stay safe," he politely dismisses, and the girls gladly take their drinks and move on.

 

"You feelin' okay, big fella'?" Sam wonders, quirking an eyebrow.

 

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Steve gives the same delayed response again.

 

"You err... lookin' a little sweaty up top, pal, maybe wanna' step outside?"

 

"Nah, I'll be fine," Steve declines. "Who do I have to beg to get a drink around here anyway?" he laughs gingerly, fruitless in trying to get his order taken. 

 

Sam stands up, his smoulder turned right the way to medium rare as he goes in to grill Steve with a hot tongue.

 

"No need to beg, all you gotta' do is ask, baby."

 

"S-Sam," Steve stutters, looking around sheepishly as Sam presses up against him and makes a dangerous pass at his exposed neckline.

 

"Hey, my man, two beers please," he then requests with a clear voice and complete flippancy; like nothing even happened, and leaving Steve wondering why his cock is getting agitated in the first place.

 

The party isn't quite as awful as Steve had imagined it would be. Tony isn't even around for most of it, leaving the avengers to socialise.

 

Thor is there and so are Nat and Bruce; in fact Steve can pretty much have a good conversation with all of his teammates bar one, and it's enjoyable being able to do so for once without the threat of it all being thrown into discord by a single snide remark from the billionaire playboy misanthropist.

 

The party just keeps going however, even when Steve had been certain that after Thor and Clint took off—being the life of the party as they are—the evening would devolve into a more lulled atmosphere.

 

Still, there is no reason to stay longer than needs be. He showed up, he had a pleasant time, now he won't be the first or the last to leave. It's the perfect opportunity to make a bid for home.

 

He remembers just as his eyes fall on Sam a few crowds over that he's not going anywhere until he's dealt with _that_ , however.

 

Avoiding any attempts at being wrangled for conversation, Steve politely smiles and holds a passive hand up as he makes his way to the bathroom again.

 

It hadn't sat too great at first, knowing it was there, but during the evening the key had settled, and Steve stopped being able to feel it.

 

Sam's suggestion had been helpful after all, he thought. Until now, as he stands with one foot propped on the rim of the toilet bowl with his pants round his ankles trying to retrieve his house key.

 

"...Fuck," he gasps upon the realisation that the reason for its quiet presence throughout the night is because it has migrated.

 

"Sam," Steve hisses as he sweeps out of the toilets and weaves his way through the crowds to reach him.

 

"What, man? You good? You ready to l—"

 

"Sam I got a problem!" the super soldier interrupts.

 

"What's goin' on?" Sam asks, concern etched onto his face given the redness and discomfort on Steve's.

 

"C-come with me," Steve insists, taking Sam's hand just as he sets his drink down.

 

"Oh, woah, hey—what's up you wanna' make out in Tony's closet or some—"

 

"Sam this _isn't_ funny!" Steve pleads with him, locking the door behind them. He picked a quiet hideaway at random, but as it happens they are very much in one of the bedrooms. But that doesn't matter. It's private here and away from the party.

 

"It's gone!" Steve huffs, getting worked up already.

 

"What's gone? Hey, calm down. What's gone?" Sam levels, grounding the panicky super soldier by gently bracketing his upper arms.

 

"My house key, I—I did what you said but now I can't get it back and I—"

 

"The key..." Sam deadpans. "The key is up your ass..."

 

"Yes!" Steve hisses, desperation boiling over into his tense posture.

 

"Alright, alright, lemme' take a look," Sam reasons, motioning Steve onto the bed. Steve obeys without question; he's not unused to Sam making such demands.

 

"That's it, big guy," Sam coaches as Steve braces himself on all fours with his cheek to the bed and his ass raised.

 

Sam sucks his middle finger in brief preparation, and the super soldier whimpers at the intrusion. He doesn't dislike it though.

 

"S-Sam~" Steve trills.

 

"God damn, Cap," the younger man remarks, unable to feel a hint of the key even in deep up to the last knuckle. "Gah," he huffs, removing his finger, "ok, let's not panic... I think I know someone who can help us. You stay here pal, I won't be long," Sam reassures.

 

Steve, too embarrassed to ask, just nods and follows orders.

 

"Hey tic-tac!" Sam calls across the room upon spying Scott Lang. He successfully gets his attention, and gestures for him to come over with a head tilt.

 

Scott seems tasked to do so, rolling his eyes, but he approaches nonetheless.

 

"What'd'ya want, man?"

 

"Got uh... a job for a hero like you," Sam spins with an untrustworthy grin as he claps Scott on the shoulder and ushers him away down the hall.

 

"What is this? You're not gunna' beat me up cuz'a' that breaking and entering thing are ya'? I thought we were over th—"

 

"Sh," Sam silences him, shoving him into the room where Steve remains on the bed in what, to unprepared eyes, is quite the compromising position.

 

"Oh. Huh," Scott remarks, tilting his head like he can understand it better from a different angle. "Well hey, Cap," he greets with a two fingered salute, trying to be casual about it. "And on that note, goodbye."

 

"Oh no, no, no, you don't," Sam harangues, preventing Scott from leaving.

 

"Look guys, I got nothing against you two doin'—" he gestures, "whatever this is, but I don't think I want in."

 

"Look. It's not what you think," Sam explains, hands heavy on Scott's shoulders as he walks him closer to Steve like he's about to sacrifice him. "Cap here is havin' a little trouble with his—"

 

"No, woah woah woah, let's hear it from the big guy. I trust _him_ to be honest about it."

 

Sam shrugs, figuring his dubiousness is due, and patting Scott's shoulders as he frees him of the falcon death grip.

 

"Go on, Cap. Tell him what happened."

 

Steve swallows hard and averts eye contact. It seems like it'd be too awkward to change positions now but he can't look at anyone directly with his ass still in the air like this.

 

"I... got no pockets so I p-put my house key..."

 

"Put yer house key..." Sam prompts.

 

Steve mumbles it into the pillow, head turned to smother himself.

 

Sam sighs, but fills in the blanks. "He put the key up his ass and now it's gone walkabouts way, _way_ up in there," he bluntly explains.

 

"Huh... not as weird as I was anticipating I'll grant you that, but what'd'ya' want me to d—"

 

"I've tried." Sam states, clapping Scott on the shoulder again. "It ain't comin' back that way anytime soon and ol' Cap here's ready for his glass'a warm milk and an early night, so we need something quick... something tiny that can shrink down, go in th—"

 

"Yeah, okay, okay, I get where this is going," Scott assures.

 

"Good," Sam nods with that infamous smug smile.

 

Scott rubs the back of his neck then looks up as if to ask god, for the first time in his life, for guidance.

 

"Damn..." he curses, shaking his head. It's inevitable. "Only for Captain America would I even consider... I mean... ugh, okay big guy, let's get it over with," he concedes, giving Steve's back a consoling pat.

 

"Alright, how 'bout that," Sam cheers, taking a travel-sized bottle of lube out of his pocket.

 

"Hey, hey," Steve frowns, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "What the hell is that?"

 

"You just... _happen_ to carry a bottle of lube with you at all times, huh?" Scott also remarks.

 

"Hey man, it's a party. A guy's gotta' be prepared for anything, right?" Sam says in defence.

 

"Sam, you had pockets this whole time?!" Steve accuses, "you couldn't have offered to hold onto my key for me?!"

 

Sam shrugs obliviously, "ain't have no room," he states, holding up the bottle as a reminder.

 

"Whatever," Steve huffs, an almost pouty, petulant edge to his dismissal as he slides back into his facedown pose.

 

"I'll make it all good again, big guy, don't get crabby on me," Sam soothes, his voice adopting that melty, liquid tone.

 

"Ah~ fuck!" Steve responds as Sam lubes up his fingers and curls the first one into his prostate immediately.

 

"Language," Sam teases. "That feel good, huh?"

 

Steve nods.

 

"So you guys kinda' sound like you do this often," Scott says with a sheepish side-eye of the scene. "Damn," he mutters when he catches sight of Sam's second finger sliding into the pouting pink mouth of Steve's asshole.

 

"He's cute, huh?" Sam knowingly supplies. "Bet the idea of crawling inside there's sounding pretty enticing."

 

"W-well, I wouldn't say _that_ ," Scott denies with a blush.

 

"When-ev-er you're ready, tic-tac," Sam spells out with a slow, appreciative shake of his head, pulling his fingers free of the clasp Steve's little pink pucker has on them.

 

Scott sighs, raising his eyebrows as he complies.

 

"Alright."

 

"Ok Cap, here we go," Sam forewarns, helping Steve to turn onto his back then taking his legs and bending them up to his shoulders. "You ready?" he makes sure.

 

Steve draws his lips thin, the blush still heavy on his cheeks and neck as he holds his breath and gives a curt nod.

 

"Alright, relax for me now," Scott advises before shrinking down to about the length of Sam's hand.

 

He waits then to see the tight clutch of Captain America's asshole flourish into a un-spangled star of a yawn so he can enter.

 

"Relax now, baby, c'mon," Sam coaches sternly.

 

Steve does as he's told and relaxes his muscles, and Scott seizes the chance before the modest hero tightens up again.

 

"Ah~ you're too big! I can feel you, Mr. Lang!" Steve protests.

 

"Sorry, I can shrink down if y—"

 

"Nu-uh now hold on," Sam interrupts with a smirk, holding Steve's legs apart. "I've seen you take bigger than that... an' maybe daddy _wants_ you to feel it."

 

" _Sam_!" Steve admonishes.

 

Scott chimes in awkwardly as he holds his position just half way inside Cap's ass, "ummm... wait, so am I daddy or—?"

 

"Go on tic-tac, all the way in, an' if you see a big fat button in there that says 'don't push me', you better pack in one of those punches you threw at me, ya' hear?"

 

"Yessir," Scott complies, army-crawling his way deeper inside Steve.

 

"Nnh! Sam!" Steve protests feebly, seething through gritted teeth as his eyebrows peak into a forlorn mien.

 

"That feel good?" Sam assumes.

 

Again Steve gives a fervent nod, still blushing like a virgin and letting out a soft moan afterwards.

 

"Damn I heard that from in here," Scott narrates.

 

"He's a cutie, huh? See if you can get him to really yell it next time," Sam encourages.

 

"Y-yer a sick bastard... enjoying this," Steve stutters. He's trying to be resentful as he understands now that Sam may well have foreseen this in their evening, but he's too ashamed by how much he likes it to mean anything hateful.

 

"Damn, Stevie, you better watch that bad language tonight," Sam teases again.

 

"What? Did you say Lang?" Scott cuts in.

 

"I said language!" 

 

"Ah, okay... well, anyway I think I might be looking at that _button_ you told me _not_ to push."

 

"Oh yeah?" Sam goads.

 

"Wait don't—nh~"

 

Sam laughs at that response, seeing Steve's eyes roll back as he groans blissfully.

 

"Keep goin' tic-tac, ol' cap here's flying half-mast already," Sam laughs.

 

"Goddamnit, Sam!" Steve huffs. "Mr. Lang please—"

 

"Hey fella, I'm inside yer ass right now, maybe just call me Scott, I think we're on personal enough terms at this point, yeah?"

 

"S-Scott... please," Steve cries.

 

"Please?" The other two bait in unison, pausing for what's to follow.

 

"D-don't stop!" Steve yells, flushing red up to his ears as he starts to stroke his cock. "I'm almost—"

 

" _Almost_?!" Sam and Scott exclaim in synchronised alarm.

 

"Nnh~ I'm coming'h!" Steve groans.

 

He lifts his hips clear of the mattress in a desperate arch as he starts to jerk harder. Uncaring of the pain his dry hand is causing on his sheath, and forgetting that the repetitive pounding in his ass is Scott, he heaves as he curves his body more.

 

"Woah, woah, easy big guy you're making it kinda' snug in here!" Scott warns.

 

"Steve, ease up!" Sam orders him, trying to make his feet budge so that he can hold his legs apart and ruin his arch, but Steve isn't having any of it now that he's on the verge of coming, and Sam cannot move him.

 

"Sorry, I'm sorry~" Steve sobs, grimacing as he presses his head back into the pillow. The budding tears of relief escape from the corners of his eyes and trickle down into the shells of his ears as he grits his teeth and braces for his orgasm.

 

"Easy, big guy, easy," Sam coaches. "Tic-tac, you alright in there?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I got this," Scott assures him as he shrinks himself a little more to reach some comfortable leeway; escaping from the tight, jostling enclosure of Steve constricting him like a full body sock.

 

Steve gasps suddenly, holding his breath as his whole body tightens and trembles with the tension until he comes with two impressive spurts that spatter his belly and chest.

 

"H'ah! Oh, S-Sam," Steve exhales, his huge body shuddering as he takes great big breaths and pulls his way through several more spasms that propel several shorter spurts of milky cum out of his swollen cockhead.

 

Sam licks his lips, biting his tongue hungrily as he watches Steve's asshole throb, trying to close around the intrusion of Scott's body. He loves how his thighs tremble and how he grunts with the effort of sliding his foreskin up and down lazily.

 

Mighty though his cock is—mighty though his whole body is—there is simply a constant element of chaste, _virginal_ cuteness about Steve. Even when he's swearing like a sailor and sweating bullets trying to get his end away.

 

Sam takes Steve's plum balls and rolls them between his fingertips, feeling the weight of them in his palm and giving them a squeeze. To his utter pleasure, Steve responds with a pitched moan.

 

"You're still feelin' heavy, Cap," Sam deduces, "even after all that... you're not holding back on us now are ya'?"

 

Steve grunts and tries to shield his hot face with a broad arm, tugging himself with a stutter in his rhythm.

 

"How long, big guy?"

 

"Sam~" Steve dissuades helplessly.

 

"C'mon, how long's it been since you gave yerself a good rub like that? When was the last time?"

 

"Hey if it makes you feel any better I once had to go two weeks while I was in jail... gave into Peach eventually though. He's a persuasive guy..." Scott trails off, losing conviction after an originally bold interjection.

 

"A month," Steve whimpers.

 

"A month!"

 

"Goddamn!" Sam and Scott caw.

 

Steve shrinks in on himself, slowing his movements as he lets his fat, spent cock rest limp under his belly button, semen trickling into the gutters of his hips where the impressive 'v' shape gathers sweat and cum and feeds the mixture to a sticky trickle inside his big thighs.

 

"It was a dry spell! Everyone gets them!" Steve says defensively. Though he's not at all certain that anyone gets them as bad as him. Seventy years of a dry spell is still an unapproached record to his knowledge.

 

Scott is the first to notice Steve's shaking; he feels it through his whole body, the walls surrounding him and the hiccups that start deep in Steve's belly just above him.

 

"Hey, hey, big fella," he tries to comfort; realising what's happening, "it's not bad— it's not that bad!"

 

Sam seems more familiar with this behaviour from Steve as he presents no alarm in his voice when he goes to hold the super soldier and soothe him.

 

"I feel guilty when I—I shouldn't touch—"

 

"I know, I know, honey."

 

Scott can't hear what Sam whispers to Steve next, but clearly it's not meant for him anyway. It's effective whatever he says. The tension and hiccuping stop and a shy chuckle rumbles in Steve's chest. Scott feels this too.

 

"God fucking damnit, he's cute," Scott mutters to himself, shrinking down further so that he won't disturb Steve as he continues army crawling his way toward the now visible key. It must have been dislodged by the strength of his orgasm.

 

"Hey, target acquired," Scott informs, sensing that the fun is over and it's really time to stop loitering inside Captain America's asshole.

 

Sam convinces Steve to relax again and lay still, holding his legs up for him to make it as easy as possible for Scott to exit.

 

Steve blushes and tries to help, his eyes creasing at the corners as he gives a tentative push.

 

"Woah, hey! Don't hurt yerself, big guy," Scott warns as he feels Steve contracting behind him.

 

"Easy, pal. I got'cha," Sam intervenes with a faithful pair of fingers. "You got it," he nods, impressed. "Good job, tic-tac."

 

His smile seems somewhat taunting; as if he's going to make a comment on the fact he just crawled inside one of the avengers, but Scott corrects his assumptions to it being more likely envy. If it was possible for him, Sam would almost certainly be pulling himself through the coils of Steve's intensities regularly like a horny tapeworm.

 

"Here ya' go, freedom," Scott sighs conclusively, returning to his normal size and handing Steve the key to his apartment.

 

Out of breath and his modesty returning to him Steve just nods his thanks as Scott puts the key in his barely open palm.

 

"Thanks for helping us out, li'l man," Sam winks.

 

Scott gives a slight shrug, "what can I say? Anytime fellas. I'm uh... I'm gunna' go take a shower now, think Tony'll mind?"

 

Sam laughs thinking of the state the three of them are going to be leaving the place in. "Hey, I won't tell if you don't."

 

"I'm sure he'll have enough to deal with given what you did to his lawn," Steve mentions, reaching for the hand Sam offers him.

 

"Eh, you're probably right, what billionaire's gunna' miss a few scented candles and a shower cap," Scott decides. "See ya' round fellas."

 

"Thanks," Steve says shyly, holding up the key.

 

Scott returns the gesture without even turning around to look, just giving him a thumbs up. They don't really need to take it any further than that they seem to silently agree.

 

"C'mon, Cap," Sam smiles, "let's get you home."

 

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween ¯\\(◡‿◡✿)/¯


End file.
